


The Magic Between Us

by jonnyluvssherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom John, Faunlock, M/M, Magic, Miscarriage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Sherlock, faunlock au, little bit of plot, m-preg, magic pregnancy, mention of suicide, toplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnyluvssherlock/pseuds/jonnyluvssherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson just out of the war decides to move into his uncles cabin till he figures life out.  He meets Sherlock a half-human, half-faun and his life changes forever.  Sherlock is the best distraction he could ask for, but when magic makes the impossible happen John has to face some serious consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure there should be more tags. I will add them as I think of them.
> 
> this is a smut/angst/fluff/crack fic. it started with a small idea and kinda snowballed.
> 
> rinaluvsu and specializedinomniscience were the beta's for this fix
> 
> Note: Please do not redistribute my fanfiction on other archives or sites such as goodreads or ebooks tree without my express permission.

John woke startled, unable to place what could have roused him so abruptly.  The room was half-lit by the sun as it just started to peek over the horizon. He reached out to the other side of the bed and found it cold.  He hadn’t expected him to be there.  Sherlock hardly ever stayed the night, even when they had sex. He was far too much at home outside in the forest, having spent too much time alone out there to really live comfortably in a house. 

 

 

Sherlock would usually wander in around breakfast, have a cup of tea, and then wander back out again.  If he needed, or wanted, John, he would tell him. If not, that might be the last John would see of him for days.

 

 

Sometimes, John would wake up from a nap on the sofa to find Sherlock watching him, his antlers casting long shadows on the floor. Other times, Sherlock would walk in on him in the bath (no sense of modesty) or press his cold nose against the back of his neck in the night.  When Sherlock wanted John’s attention, he would have it, or there would be hell to pay. However, when he wanted to be left alone, there would be no sight of him.  Even the best of John’s tracking skills could not help him find the faun.

 

 

It was just before dawn, but John was up. There was no going back to sleep for him, as much as he wanted to.  He was sitting on the edge of the bed when he felt a stab of pain in his abdomen and a wave of nausea over take him.

 

 

He stood and quickly rushed out of the bedroom and into the cabin’s small bathroom.  He spent the next few hours throwing up everything he had eaten the previous night.

 

 

\----------

 

 

John felt a cold hand on shoulder and jumped. He realized that he had dozed off in his spot on the bathroom floor, slumped against the counter.  He looked at Sherlock who was studying him closely.

 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.” John mumbled, running a hand through his hair.  He felt drained. His stomach had no more to give, but he was still feeling sick.

 

 

“Tea?”  Was Sherlock’s sole response.

 

 

John’s jaw dropped.  He was amazed that someone so smart couldn’t read the situation. “No Sherlock, there is no tea. I’m sick.  All I have done today is be sick.”  John gritted his teeth.

 

 

“No.”  Sherlock said calmly.  “Do you want tea?” He tilted his head to the side; no longer looking at John as if he was trying to figure him out, it almost seemed more like he was actually concerned.

 

 

“I don’t think that’s wise, but thanks.” John smiled as much as he could, despite how much pain he was in.

 

 

Sherlock nodded.  “Bed.”  He reached under John and started to pick him up.

 

 

“You really don’t have to do that!” John yelped as a flair of pain shot through his abdomen.

 

 

“Taking care of ones mate is important.” Sherlock walked the short distance into John’s room and sat him softly on the bed.  “Where does it hurt?”

 

 

Six months ago, if anyone would have told John he would be letting a half-human, half-deer look after his medical needs, he would have told them they were crazy.  If they had gone on to tell him he would be madly in love with that man-deer, he would have sectioned them.  Yet here John was, showing Sherlock the point of pain, and explaining the sickness he had experienced earlier.

 

 

Sherlock had John lay back while he listened, and poking him softly. He being much gentler than John was used to. Then, he lowered his ear to John’s belly and listened.  John tried not to laugh. He knew Sherlock worked on a different principle then him.  That he worked with magic, or was it that he _was_ magic?  John was still trying to work it out.

 

 

John watched the top of Sherlock’s head, smiling when Sherlock’s nose skimmed his tummy.  He wanted to tell Sherlock it tickled, but he did not want to disturb his work.  Without warning, Sherlock’s head shot up and he looked at John, his eyes wide.

 

 

“What!”  John demanded.

 

 

“John,” Sherlock smiled, “you’re pregnant.”

 

 

John stared at him, trying to figure out if it was a joke.  However, going by the pleased look on Sherlock’s face, it definitely was not.  “How… how is that even possible?”  John tried not to pull back.  Tried not to show how uncomfortable he was with what was happening.

 

 

“We created magic between us.” Sherlock bent down and nosed at John’s stomach.  Then he licked it. “We’re going to create a life that is a part of both of us!”

 

 

“But that’s impossible.”  John sat up.  Trying not to let his frustration show in his tone.

 

 

“No, it’s improbable, not impossible.”

 

 

“My body isn’t made for this.” John mumbled.

 

 

Sherlock’s ears moved forward to hear him better. His face clouded over. “I need to do research.” He started to jump off the bed.

 

 

“You’re just going to leave me here!” John demanded.

 

 

Sherlock turned back to look at him. John could tell by his expression he had no idea what he had done wrong.

 

 

“I’m scared.  You just told me something is happening to my body that shouldn’t be. I’ve already been ill. This could kill me and it’s not like I can call a doctor and get advice!”  John bellowed, failing at keeping his composure.

 

 

Sherlock stood tall looking down at him. “I have to do research. I need to know what is happening to you.”  He turned away from John and slowly walked out of the room.

 

 

“Or maybe you just don’t want to deal with any fucking emotions.”  John sighed, falling back onto the bed.

 

 

 

**_6 months ago_ **

 

 

 

When Harry had told John that their late uncle Steve left him a cabin in an old growth forest, he had not known what to expect. The two-room building was not much, just a kitchen, living room with a nice fireplace, a bedroom with a good double bed, and a small bathroom with an old claw foot tub. 

 

 

The furniture was old and well lived-in. The bookshelves lined with mystery novels and cookbooks.  There was nothing delicate about the place.  It was built sturdy and clearly only meant for one person to live in.  Harry had said uncle Steve would come up here for weeks on end to get away from the world.

 

 

John felt a bit like he was hiding by coming out here, but that might be just what he needed.  He was out of the war, but the war was not out of him.

 

 

The first night, he woke up screaming at half-past four in the morning.  He knew he was not getting back to sleep, so he got out of bed and went for a run. He had found a map of trails near the house and memorized them the night before.

 

 

When he got back, he showered, made tea, and thought about sending an e-mail to a friend.  He finally gave up and made some space on one of the bookshelves for a few of his medical books.

 

 

Most of the books his uncle had looked terrible, but he pulled one off the bookshelf and went out to the back porch to read it. There was a decent chair and a few more hours of sunlight.  He wondered if he’d last a week.  If he would either shoot himself or end up back at Harry’s.  He dozed off as the sun started to set.  His eyes closed, but his mind awake.  He stayed half-asleep until he heard someone step up onto the porch.  If he had been closer into town, he would have put it down to a nosy neighbor wondering why he was sleeping outside. Nonetheless, John did not have any neighbors, at least not any that could get to the house without driving, and he had not heard a car.  A cold hand slid over his and picked up the book on his lap.

 

 

Unable to keep his eyes closed any longer, John looked up into the face of a half-man, half-deer.  The creature seemed to be reading the back of the book. It looked down at him, intelligent blue, green eyes boring into him.  Suddenly, the creature turned and rushed off into the woods with his book.

 

 

By the next day, John had convinced himself that he had been dreaming.  Except the book was gone and there were footprints on the ground where someone had run away from the house.

 

 

John decided to carry a knife with him when he ran.

 

 

\---------

 

 

While John was on his run, his third morning at the cabin, he heard a shot ring out through the forest.  He ducked for cover, forgetting for a moment that he was not in a warzone.  When he pulled himself together, he heard what sounded like someone struggling in the under brush not too far from where he stood.

 

 

Moving slowly, he made his way towards the sound and found the deer-man from before.  He had a bullet wound in his side.  It looked like a flesh wound, but John would not know for sure until he had gotten a better look.

 

 

He knelt by the creature, who he now saw had the body of a human, the ears and antlers of a deer, a mop of curly and tangled dark brown hair, and a soft fuzz-like fur covering his body. The creature tried to move away from him as he endeavored to touch it, causing itself more pain.

 

 

“It’s alright; I’m just trying to help.” John smiled, hoping that would aid in soothing the frightened faun.

 

 

In the distance, a stick cracked under someone’s boot.

 

 

John put his finger to his lips, hoping the creature will know to be silent.  Taking off his jacket, he placed it onto the prone man.   He then stood and took a deep breath before calling out into the woods. “Anyone out there?” He saw the creature shift on the ground out of the corner of his eye.  He just hoped it stayed still enough for this to work.

 

 

Twenty yards away a man with a hunting rifle stood up. John waved, the man waving back.

 

 

“Morning,” John called.

 

 

“Morning.”  The man echoed. He scratched the back of his head. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

 

 

“Talking a walk through my property.” John smiled.  “What are you doing?”

 

 

The man blanched.  “I was, I was just on my way.”

 

 

John nodded.  “Wouldn’t want to accidently shoot a man for taking a morning walk on his own land.”

 

 

The man nodded before turning around and rushing off. When he was out of sight, John turned back to the injured man at his feet.  Was he a man?

 

 

John picked up his jacket and looked at the wound. It would need stiches. He tried to help the man to his feet, but he planted his heels in the ground and refused to budge.

 

 

“I just saved your life sending that hunter away.” John fumed.  “Now all I want to do is help with your wound.”

 

 

The man watched him for a few moments, and then let John help him to his feet the jacket hanging around his shoulders. They walked slowly back to the cabin. Once inside, John sat his guest on the sofa and went to get his medical kit.  When he came back, the man narrowed his gaze on him.

 

 

Silently, John pulled everything he would need for stiches out and placed them on the coffee table. The man pulled away from him as he brought the threaded needle closer.

 

 

“I know what I’m doing. I’m a doctor.” The man looked no more convinced. “A healer?”

 

 

Something opened in the man’s expression.

 

 

“You heal me?”

 

 

“Yes, I heal you.”

 

 

John was finally allowed access to the wound, which he cleaned and went to work on.  He tried not to think about the fact that his patient was clearly not an animal or a human, and that he could talk.

 

 

“You used odd magic.”  The man said.

 

 

“It’s not magic, its medicine.”

 

 

A hand settled on top of his head. It seemed inquisitive, so John let it be. “You’ll need to keep the wound clean for several days.  I’ll also need to take the stiches out once you’re healed.”  John fished his work and looked up at the man.  “You’re welcome to stay here.  There’s not much room, but it’s clean and dry.”

 

 

The man looked at him warily. John sat back on his heels and peeled off the grey t-shirt he had been wearing to run in.  He pointed to his left shoulder.  “I’ve been shot by people too.  I know how hard it can be to trust them.”

 

 

The man reached out and touched the scar, something no one but his doctors had done.  Then the man looked up and him as if he had decided something.

 

 

“Sherlock.”

 

 

“Sorry.”

 

 

“My name is Sherlock.”

 

 

“John”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the smut begins

Sherlock was the worst houseguest John had ever had. He could handle the hovering, the need to help Sherlock outside to go to the bathroom - even after he had explained the toilet to him, and the vegetarian diet.

 

What he could not handle, was being walked in on every time he used the toilet or the shower, how Sherlock went through his trash smelling things, or threw his things around and then refused to pick them up. He had even caught him rolling around in his dirty clothing. When he had asked him to stop, Sherlock had looked at him as if he was the one with a problem. The man had no respect for personal space, and whenever John tried to get a moment alone, he interrupted it.

 

Finally, John had to make the excuse of going into town for supplies in order to get a few moments peace. That had sent Sherlock into a panic. He had held onto John and rubbed his nose against his neck.

 

“Easy, I’ll only be gone for an hour.” John sighed, pointing to the clock on the mantel. “I promise.” He smiled, hoping that would help him.

 

Sherlock licked his neck. “Promise.”

 

John returned just over and hour later to find Sherlock sitting on the front steps of the cabin. As he stepped out of his car, Sherlock bounded up to him and threw his arms around his neck, knocking him back against the vehicle. 

 

“Hour and ten minutes John, ten minutes!” Sherlock grumbled. Sniffing and rubbing his face against John’s face and neck.

 

“Sorry, there was a line.” John slowly lifted his hands and placed them on Sherlock’s back. The man did not flinch. In fact, he moved closer against John. 

 

This was strange, mostly because it was not strange. A man who was half-animal was holding him, and the more Sherlock pressed against him, the more he could feel he was aroused. John should push him away. He should not want Sherlock to press against him harder, but he did.

 

It was not as if Sherlock was entirely an animal. He was very human. When John spoke to him, he was very surprised by how intelligent he was. Sherlock had been very interested in John’s old medical textbooks when he’d found them. They had had some amazing conversations about anatomy and the mind. Once John had gotten over Sherlock’s appearance, it had been easy to see what a genius he was.

 

Could John look past his appearance again? Could he let this relationship go to the next level? Sherlock turned his face to look at him and John saw all the thought and care in his eyes. Yes, he could.

 

Sherlock leaned in to kiss him. John closed his eyes and opened his mouth slightly to accept. Sherlock brushed his lips softly against John’s at first, and then, when John did not refuse him, he kissed him harder, licking at John’s lips.

 

“Mine,” Sherlock murmured against his lips, grinding his pelvis against John’s.

 

John broke the kiss and took a deep breath. One of Sherlock’s hands had wandered down to his arse and was gripping him hard. He didn’t want to stop Sherlock, but he did want to move indoors. Where there was a bed, and lube. 

 

“Wait,” John mumbled, trying to catch his breath.

 

Sherlock growled and pressed himself against John harder. “My mate!” He hissed, leaning in to bite John’s neck.

 

John gasped. “I’m not saying stop. I just need to get the shopping in. I don’t want the milk to go bad. You do want milk in your tea tomorrow morning, don’t you?” Since coming to stay with him Sherlock had fallen in love with tea with milk and sugar.

 

Sherlock slowly leaned back and nodded.

 

“ After we put the shopping away, we will continue.”

 

Sherlock nodded and bumped his nose against John’s. When Sherlock let go, John was better able to see the erection in the thatch of hair at his groin. He did his best to ignore it as he opened the car and handed Sherlock one of the shopping bags.

 

They trudged inside in silence. In the kitchen, Sherlock stood beside him as he put the perishable things away. He could feel how antsy Sherlock was. When the last of groceries that had to get put away were safely stored, John reached for Sherlock’s hand and led him towards his bedroom.

 

Sherlock tried to stop their progress once, pulling John to him and kissing his way down his face to nip at his throat. John just placed his hands on Sherlock’s arms and continued to walk backwards.

 

“Where are you going, John?” 

 

Sherlock nipped at his jaw, sending a shiver down his spine. “To the bed. It will be much easier if we lay down.”

 

Sherlock’s cold nose pressed into his neck and he nodded. They made their way to John’s bed and tumbled onto it. It might have been more graceful, but Sherlock had refused to let John go during the process.

 

They lay side-by-side for a moment, just breathing. Suddenly, John laughed softly and Sherlock shot him a glare.

 

“Are you mocking me?” He asked, pushing his fist lightly against John’s abdomen.

 

“No.” John smiled at him, leaning in to kiss his lips. “I haven’t felt this giddy in a long time. It’s nice.”

 

Sherlock moved his fist lower and bumped it against John’s erection; it had been growing since they stumbled into bed. John moaned and ground himself on Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock watched with utter delight as John rocked himself back and forth, trying to get more friction.

 

He felt Sherlock’s other hand slide under his shirt and up to his nipple. Sherlock pinched it, making him moan louder.

 

“Clothing off, John.” Sherlock took his hand away from his cock and started pulling John’s shirt over his head. 

 

When John was naked, Sherlock pulled him flush against him and sighed. “Mine.” Sherlock whispered, reaching down and grabbing his arse.

 

John gasped and felt hesitant for the first time. It felt good to be held by Sherlock. The softness of the light coating of fur rubbing against his skin was electric. He just was not sure if he was ready to go all the way. He had never done this before, and he was sure it took time to get used to before you could or should actually do it.

 

“Sherlock, tonight you can only put your fingers in me.”

 

Sherlock looked like he was about to argue.

 

“I’ve never done this before. I want to, but not tonight.” John held up two of his fingers. “You can put two fingers in me.”

 

Sherlock nodded. “I won’t hurt you. I want to be inside you. “

 

“Not tonight.”

 

Sherlock smiled and kissed him. “I’ll be your first, when you’re ready.”

 

John nodded; he rolled over and found the bottle of lube in the bedside drawer. He put some on one of his hands and reached between the two of them, wrapping his hands around both of their cocks. Then he handed Sherlock the lube. 

 

Sherlock spread the lube over one of his fingers, and then drew John’s leg over his hip. He reached behind John and started rubbing his finger over his hole until John begged him to penetrate him. Sherlock pushed in slowly.

 

The sensation was odd, but not unpleasant. John had expected it to hurt, but it just felt strange. They rocked their bodies together, Sherlock moving his finger in and out of John. He suddenly felt a jolt of pleasure rush through his body, and realized Sherlock had found his prostate. Sherlock did it again smiling at him. After a while, he removed the finger and shoved it back in with a second.

 

John gasped, feeling stretched and a new sensation of being full-yet-not-full-enough. He lay with his mouth open, panting in Sherlock’s arms while Sherlock kissed his neck and chest. The only thing he could do was keep his hand moving over their cocks.

 

Sherlock fucked him until he could not stand it anymore. He buried his face in Sherlock’s neck and came screaming him name. He let his cock go when he got to sensitive, but kept his hand going over Sherlock’s. Sherlock pulled John’s face away from his neck and kissed him. Their eyes met and Sherlock came, his fingers still in John’s arse. They looked at each other and both ended up chuckling.

 

“See, its just giddiness.” John used his clean hand to smooth Sherlock’s hair away from his face.

 

After they had both calmed down and cleaned themselves up a little, Sherlock got up to leave.

 

“Where are you going?” John asked, afraid to know the answer.

 

“The couch.” 

 

“Stay.” John looked at him hopefully. He knew he most likely wouldn’t stay all night, but it would be nice if he stayed for at least a little while.

 

Sherlock crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up with him.

 

John woke from a nightmare feeling out of breath, a hand settled on his shoulder. He jumped and looked up to see Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him curiously.

 

“John?”

 

“I’m fine.” He panted, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Tea?”

 

John nodded and got out of bed. He fumbled into a pair of pajama pants and a shirt, not caring what he looked like, and headed to the kitchen. He had put the kettle on when he felt Sherlock behind him.

 

Sherlock pressed his face into his throat and smelled him. Then he placed his hands on John’s hips and pushed John’s shirt up, feeling his abdomen and his chest. He stepped forward until his front was flush against John’s back and John could feel his half-hard cock press into his arse.

 

“You still smell like me, John.” There was a smug tone to Sherlock’s voice as he leaned over John and nipped him on the jaw. “I want you to smell like me even more.”

 

John was more than ready to be distracted from his nightmare. He pressed his arse back into Sherlock and shivered.

 

Sherlock reached for John’s pants and pulled them down, revealing his arse. He slid his hand over it and sighed. “I want to cum on you.”

 

John moaned and nodded. He braced himself on the worktop with one hand and reached for his own cock, giving it a squeeze.

 

Sherlock pressed his cock against the cleft in his arse and started to rut against him. It only took a few thrust for his cock to slip between John’s cheeks and they both gasped.

 

It should not have felt so good, but Sherlock thrusting against him was making John hard and his cock was dripping with pre cum. The feeling of Sherlock gripping his hips and pushing against him made John bend over farther, giving Sherlock better access to him. He jerked himself off, using his pre-cum as lube.

 

Sherlock came a few minutes later, gripping his hips, his cum spattered all over John’s arse. John was still trying to follow him over when Sherlock swiped his finger through his own cum and slowly shoved it inside John.

 

“Yes!” John moaned.

 

Sherlock fucked him with his finger, leaning in to kiss and bite his neck. John threw his head back into Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock pulled his finger out and shoved it in with a second, hitting John’s prostrate full on.

 

John bucked against him cumming hard, his knees almost giving out under him. Sherlock caught him with one arm and held him against the worktop.

 

“It’s alright.” Sherlock muttered kissing the side of John’s face. 

 

John turned and looked at him. They kissed as the kettle went off, John feeling like a huge weight had just been lifted from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took a break from writing since i was having trouble getting inspired. i finally got chapter 3 done on this fic.  
> i'm hoping that over the next few weeks i will be able to get more of this fic done. the original story in my head was short but the more i write the longer i feel the story is becoming.  
> lost of smut below!!!

After breakfast, John changed and went to the back porch to stretch for his run. Sherlock came out and sat in the chair, watching him.

 

“You’ll come back?” Sherlock asked, drawing his knees up to his chest.

 

John nodded. “I’m just going for a quick run.”

 

Sherlock pouted in the chair and John tried not to laugh. He leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, trying to sooth him.

 

“When I get back, you can pick what we do till lunch.”

 

Sherlock smiled.

 

Despite the fact that he had not been able to run the last few days with Sherlock hovering over him, John did not stay out very long. After twenty minutes, he found himself turning back for the cabin. Sherlock was still in the chair, his fingers steepled under his chin.

 

Sherlock smiled at him as he approached and reached for him when he came near.

 

“Let me take a shower, and then I’m all yours.”

 

“You’re going to wash my scent off.” Sherlock grouched, grabbing his hand as he tried to walk past.

 

“I’m washing my sweat off. You can always make me smell like you again.” He gripped Sherlock’s hand then moved into the house.

 

John washed quickly, knowing Sherlock would only let him be in there alone for so long. When he came out of the bathroom, Sherlock was sitting on the couch watching him.

 

“I’m going to get dressed.” He had forgotten to take in a change of clothes or his dressing gown when he had gone in, so all he had was the towel around his waist.

 

“No.” Sherlock patted the couch next to him. “Come here.”

 

John walked over to the couch and sat beside him. Sherlock pressed his face into his neck and pulled him against him, wrapping his arms tightly around him. John sighed and leaned back to give him better access. Sherlock rubbed his face into John’s neck then nipped at him.

 

“Haven’t you covered me in enough marks?” John laughed, reaching one hand into Sherlock’s hair. When he had striped for his shower, John realized his neck and chest were covered in love bites.

 

“Marking you as mine.” Sherlock whispered. He reached for John’s hand and placed it on his cock. “I want your mouth on me.”

 

John shuddered, and then nodded. He untangled himself from Sherlock and knelt on the floor between his legs. He had done this a few times and had always enjoyed it. He looked at Sherlock’s cock and realized how big it was. It had to be at least nine inches, and thick. John shivered at the idea of having it inside of him.

 

“Towel, John.”

 

John handed Sherlock his towel, feeling indecent for being naked in his living room about to suck a man off. His cock hardened at the thought and he leaned in to kiss the silken head of Sherlock’s cock. 

 

Slowly, John took Sherlock into his mouth, licking his way around it as he went down. Sherlock moaned above him. He wrapped one hand around the base and began to stroke him while he flicked his tongue across the weeping slit. He took more of Sherlock’s cock into his mouth and used his hand on the base. Every time he took Sherlock into his mouth, he took him deeper, pressing his tongue along the bottom. Sherlock thrust shallowly into his mouth and he groaned, opening his throat to take him in even deeper.

 

“John.” Sherlock panted above him, placing a hand on the back of his head.

 

John sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks and humming as he pressed his face so close to Sherlock’s he felt Sherlock’s fur brush his nose. He had Sherlock in his throat, thrusting softly in and out. He took his cock in his free hand and started slowly jerking himself off.

 

“John, John, look at me.”

 

John looked up, not stopping his mouth’s indulgences.

 

“I want you to fuck yourself.” He handed John the lube from his bedroom.

 

John moaned and gave a small nod. Sherlock helped coat his fingers and he reached between his own legs to touch himself. He had never fingered himself before, but the moment he had his fingers inside himself, he knew he would be doing it often. With the odd angle, he was not able to hit his prostate evenly, but just the feeling of being full made his cock start dripping pre-cum.

 

Sherlock thrust deeper in John’s mouth gripping John’s hair.

 

“Gonna cum.” He panted.

 

John took him as deep as possible, then felt Sherlock’s whole pelvis shudder as he came down his throat. Sherlock panted over him while John pressed his fingers deeper inside himself.

 

“Up, John.” Sherlock reached for John and pulled him on to the couch setting him on his back.

 

John’s fingers slipped as he moved. He went to re-insert them once he was laid down but Sherlock stopped him. Sherlock lay over him and shoved two fingers inside John, seeking his prostate and milking it. John jumped under him and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck.

 

“More Sherlock, a third finger.”

 

Sherlock removed his fingers then shoved in all three at once. John gasped, pressing his face into Sherlock’s neck.

 

“Good?” Sherlock asked.

 

John nodded.

 

Sherlock fucked him with quick thrusts, hitting his prostate repeatedly. John reached between them and took his cock in hand. Four tugs later, he came all over himself.

 

Sherlock looked down at him and smiled.

 

“So good, John.” He leaned in and kissed John gently on the lips.

 

John opened his mouth and let Sherlock’s tongue ravish him. 

 

Two days and five orgasms later, John took the stitches out of Sherlock’s side. He was amazed that there was no scar or any other kind of mark to show that Sherlock had ever been injured. Sherlock had laid still for the procedure, but as soon as the last stitch was out, he was up again.

 

Sherlock went to the bathroom and John followed. He watched Sherlock turn so he could see the spot where he had been injured in the mirror. He smiled at his image and John felt himself mirroring it as he leaned against the bathroom doorway.

 

“How does it feel?” John asked, watching Sherlock run his hand over his side.

 

“Good.” Sherlock turned and beamed at him. “You’re a good healer.”

 

He walked forward and John thought Sherlock was going to embrace him. Instead, he slipped out the bathroom door and walked though the living room. John turned and followed. He watched Sherlock head straight for the back door.

 

“Are you leaving?” John asked, trying to hide his disappointment. 

 

Sherlock nodded and opened the backdoor.

 

John hurried after him. “You’ll come back though?” 

 

Sherlock was half way off the porch when he spun around and smiled at John. “I’ll be back.” Then he ran off across the yard into the woods.

 

John moved to follow but stopped himself. He had no shoes on and Sherlock knew the woods better then he did. There was no way he could keep up with him. John watched the edge of the woods for a while, waiting to see if Sherlock would return. He finally gave up and went back inside. He left the door open in case Sherlock came back and looked around his house.

 

There were chores to be done and shopping to be bought but John didn’t feel like doing any of it. He realized just how lonely he had been before Sherlock. The man had brightened the house and made him feel happy. Alone again, John felt the edge of depression creeping up on him.

 

He knew it would only get worse if he stayed idle, so he set himself to work. He cleaned the house and did his laundry, and then made a list of things he needed from town. He indulged himself while shopping by buying chocolate biscuits and hot cocoa. He had some treats in the house when Sherlock had first come to stay with him, but the man had eaten them the first night he had been there while John was asleep.

 

John made his way back to his house and opened the door. The house was silent. There was no voices calling out to him or sounds of feet rushing across hardwood to greet him. He sighed and put his shopping away, trying not to think about how empty the house felt.

 

The next few days, John did his best to stay hopeful that Sherlock would return. He ran in the morning, hoping for some sign of the man, and then sat around the house, hoping Sherlock would come back. 

 

On his third day alone, John thought he spotted Sherlock while running and chased after him calling his name. He lost Sherlock after a few minutes and felt hurt that he had run from him. He felt cold and exhausted. His nightmares had returned now that he was back to sleeping alone. Even wanking to make himself tired only made him miserable. John returned home and laid on his couch. He had no desire to move or eat.

 

When John woke the next day, he made himself tea and went to sit on the back porch. He watched the edge of the woods hoping for a glance of Sherlock. Several hours went by and his tea grew cold. He was just standing to go in when he saw a familiar face amongst the trees. John watched, praying that Sherlock would come to the house.

 

After a few minutes of watching each other, Sherlock broke free from the tree line. John dropped his mug; not caring that is would shatter, and walked out into the yard. Sherlock smiled as he came near, opening his arms to John. Part of John wanted to punch him in the face, but he reached out and let Sherlock take him into his arms instead. He could be mad, but he feared it would drive Sherlock away.

 

“John.” Sherlock purred pressing his face into his neck.

 

He said nothing and just let himself be held.

 

Sherlock sniffed him and pulled away abruptly.

 

“What?” John asked, scared he had done something wrong.

 

“You don’t smell like me anymore.” Sherlock snapped.

 

“You’ve been gone for a few days. It happens.”

 

This did not seem to pacify Sherlock, who glowered down at him.

 

“Why don’t we go inside and you can make me smell like you again?” John was going for cheeky. He hoped it worked.

 

Sherlock nodded.

 

John led him inside pulling his clothing off as soon as they were in the house. Sherlock rubbed himself against John’s bare skin. They walked to John’s bedroom door and Sherlock pushed him against it and pressed his face into John’s neck again.

 

“Better?” John asked, hoping for a positive answer.

 

“Better.”

 

Their eyes met and John dove in for a kiss. He reached behind himself and opened his bedroom. They slipped in, Sherlock walking him backwards to the bed.

 

“Missed you.” Sherlock purred.

 

“Then fuck me.” John whispered.

 

Sherlock growled and shoved him onto the bed.

 

John crawled so they his head was on the pillows and reached into the bedside table drawer to find the lube. The bottle was almost empty, reminding John he would need to buy more soon. He handed the bottle to Sherlock and opened his legs invitingly.

 

Sherlock kneeled between his open legs and squeezed lube on his fingers. “How many fingers are you going to let me put inside you this time?”

 

“All of them, but I don’t want to cum until your cock is inside me.”

 

Sherlock looked at him, shocked. He recovered himself and smiled at John. “Mine!” He growled.

 

John nodded. “Yours.”

 

Sherlock opened him slowly, one finger at a time. Even when John begged him to go faster, he refused. By the time Sherlock was up to four fingers, John was covered in love bites and had a damp spot on his abdomen where he and Sherlock had rubbed against each other. When Sherlock removed his fingers at last, John sighed.

 

“Finally.” John breathed.

 

Sherlock smiled at him from between his legs. He edged up to John’s arse and slowly slid inside him.

 

John threw his head back and moaned. How could he have been nervous about this? It was the best thing he had ever felt. Sherlock slowly seated himself inside John then adjusted John’s legs so they wrapped around his hips.

 

“Want you to feel good.” Sherlock murmured against John’s neck.

 

“I do.” John looked at him, his mouth hanging open slightly.

 

Sherlock pressed his nose back into John’s neck, his arms on either side of John’s head, caging him in. He started to rock in and out of him. He set a slow pace, his hips doing most of the work.

 

John lay under him, gripping the back of his legs to try to drive him in harder. The feeling of Sherlock’s cock inside him, stretching him, was beyond words.

 

“Good?” Sherlock mumbled in John’s ear.

He nodded and breathed Sherlock’s name. He let his thighs fall opened, keeping his legs in the air so Sherlock could get deeper into him. He wanted to feel Sherlock, all of him. They stayed like that for a while, John’s orgasm building with in him.

 

“I’m gonna cum.” John moaned.

 

Sherlock pulled up so he could look down at John’s face. 

 

John placed a hand on Sherlock’s lower back, the other he moved between them to jerk himself. He looked up at Sherlock, panting.

 

“Go on.” Sherlock smirked at him and thrust into John faster.

 

John came all over his hand moaning Sherlock’s name. Sherlock sped up, making the bed knock against the wall.

 

“Wanna cum inside you.” Sherlock panted.

 

John nodded. Sherlock kept thrusting into him. John could tell it would start to get uncomfortable, his body was already over stimulated.

 

“Please,” John whispered.

 

Sherlock looked at him then shuddered, cumming deep inside of him. He growled “mine” as he came.

 

They lay together panting for a few minutes, and then Sherlock pulled out of him. He moved as if he was going to get off the bed.

 

“Stay,” John, begged, “please stay.” 

 

Sherlock looked down at him and nodded. He rolled John onto his side and curled up behind him. “I won’t leave you. Ever.” Sherlock murmured.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long since i updated. there has been personal stuff as well as going to a convention. finally we have an update!!!

John woke to arms tightening around him and the press of Sherlock’s hard cock to his arse. He hummed his approval and pressed back into Sherlock.

 

“John?” Sherlock mumbled in his ear. He started rutting against the cleft of John’s arse.

 

John gasped and gripped Sherlock’s hand with his. “Don’t stop.” John moaned.

 

“I’d rather be inside you.” Sherlock nuzzled against his ear.

 

John nodded. “Get the lube.” While Sherlock did so, John rolled over onto his front. He looked over at Sherlock and smiled.

 

Sherlock looked back at him, bemusedly returning the smile, “What?”

 

“You’re gorgeous.” John knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he could not care less.

 

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John’s shoulder. “You’re one to talk.” His hand skimmed down John’s spine and slipped in between his cheeks. “I wonder if you’re still loose?”

 

John shivered and pressed his arse into Sherlock’s hand.

 

Sherlock withdrew his hand and coated a finger in lube, before pressing it back to John’s hole. He kept it there for half a minute, just circling around the puckered entrance. 

 

“Please, Sherlock.” John begged.

 

“Please what?” Sherlock leaned down and playfully nipped at John’s shoulder blade.

 

“I need… I need you to fuck me!”

 

The finger slipped inside. John groaned and tried to fuck himself on it. Slowly, teasingly, Sherlock opened John. He refused to touch his prostate for very long, merely ghosting his fingers over it. John begged and squirmed, but it did him no good.

 

Finally, Sherlock had four of his long fingers inside John. He shuttered and rutted against the mattress, the feeling of having his cock presses between him and the bed sheets not enough.

 

“Now?” John asked, looking over his shoulder at Sherlock.

 

Sherlock nodded. “Now. Up on your hands and knees.”

 

John got into position and felt Sherlock kneel behind him. Sherlock moved him about until John was nearly sunk back on his heels.

 

“Good.” Sherlock purred, rubbing his face against John’s shoulder.

 

John felt Sherlock’s hands slide down his hips before his arse cheeks were being pulled apart. He held his breath as Sherlock lined his cock up with his entrance. The head pressed against him and John exhaled. Sherlock slowly slipped in, inch-by-inch, keeping one hand to John’s stomach and the other to his hip.

 

“Sherlock, I need you in me now!” John keened.

 

“Slowly, John, slowly.” Sherlock breathed against his neck.

 

Sherlock moved deeper into him, and then pulled almost all the way out. He paused for a moment before pressing in again, deeper this time. By the time Sherlock was fully seated inside John, he was dripping pre-cum all over the bed. His legs shook and he panted from the effort of not pushing back onto Sherlock’s cock.

 

“Now fuck me!” John breathed. He felt Sherlock nod against his back.

 

Sherlock thrust in and out of him softly. John rolled his hips in an effort to speed things up but Sherlock took a firmer grip on him, forcing things to go at his pace. He slid his hand from John’s stomach up to his neck, turning John’s face towards his and cupping his chin. He smiled at John before leaning in for a kiss.

 

John was so blissed out with the combination of Sherlock fucking him and the feeling of Sherlock’s tongue possessing his mouth, that he let Sherlock completely take charge.

 

Sherlock put his hand on the center of John’s back and slowly forced him down. John went, enjoying the shift in angle. Sherlock kept one hand on his back as he continued to slowly fuck John, pressing hard into him with every thrust.

 

John moaned and rutted against the mattress, trying to get more pressure on his aching cock. Sherlock lay out over his back, slipping his arms around John’s torso. John reached for Sherlock’s hands and held tightly to him.

 

Sherlock sped up, driving downward into John repeatedly, his cock hitting his prostate with every thrust.

 

“Yes, Sherlock, right there.”

 

Sherlock lowered his face to John’s neck and felt him smile against his skin.

 

“Does it feel good?”

 

John nodded. “I’m gonna cum.”

 

Sherlock thrust harder into him, picking up his pace.

 

John choked out a scream as he came. He felt Sherlock shudder against his back and then the release of cum filling his arse.

 

They stayed still for a moment, trying to catch their breaths. Sherlock pulled away first.

 

“Need to clean up.” He muttered, standing from the bed.

 

John rolled over and looked at him. “Care to join me for a shower?”

 

Sherlock smiled and nodded.

 

\---------

 

John was getting used to Sherlock’s comings and goings, waking up to a cold bed or even waking up covered in Sherlock when he had gone asleep alone. There was no knowing when Sherlock would leave, though John was getting the feeling the man took off whenever things got too emotional. Sherlock liked things fun and easy. He liked to engage John in intellectual conversation and then fuck him over the arm of the sofa. He seemed to disappear any time John mentioned his feelings for him. Part of John felt he should not put up with it, but the other part knew he had never been happier.

 

Sherlock had returned after being gone for six days. He had immediately pulled John onto the sofa and snogged him senseless. John was basking in the afterglow of a really good kiss when he felt Sherlock’s cock nudge his thigh.

 

Sherlock leaned down until his mouth was against his ear, “John.”

 

John shuttered, his cock hardening in response. He was about to invite Sherlock to join him in his bedroom when the doorbell rang.

 

Sherlock’s whole body twitched and then he froze.

 

John looked at his face. His eyes were wide open in panic. John placed his hand on his back to calm him when he unexpectedly tried to bolt.

 

“Shhh, it’s ok. We’re ok.” John soothed, rubbing circles into Sherlock’s back.

 

Sherlock turned to face him, panic clear in his eyes.

 

“Go into my bedroom and wait until I come for you.” John beamed to show him everything was ok.

 

Sherlock slowly nodded and slid on to the floor. John watched as he crawled to the bedroom and shut the door. John took a moment to straighten his hair and adjust himself in his trousers so his half-hard cock was not showing.

 

The doorbell rang again as John walked towards the door. He had half a mind to tell them to sod off. The only person who knew he was out there was Harry and he really did not need her checking up on him.

 

When he reached the door, he looked out of the top window and saw an unfamiliar woman looking around his yard. He suddenly wished he had tucked his gun in the back of his jeans. 

 

John opened the door slowly and only kept it wide enough for her to see his face. At the creaking of the hinge, she turned and smiled at him, holding a pie tin up with both hands.

 

“Hello,” she said brightly. “I’m your neighbor off that way.” She waved vaguely west.

 

John hummed noncommittally.

 

“My name’s Janine.” She looked at him as if she was expecting an answer.

 

“John.” He nodded slowly as he spoke, waiting for her to explain her presence.

 

“Is Steve around?”

 

John looked at her as if she was daft before rolling his eyes and silently cursing Harry, who, it seemed, had not told anyone about his uncle’s death.

 

“No. I’m sorry to tell you this, but he died.” He paused to let the information set it. “I’m his nephew. I inherited the house.”

 

Janine’s smile vanished. “I thought it was weird that I hadn’t seen him around in a while.” She pointed towards John’s car. “I saw the car and just figured he was back.”

 

John didn’t know what to say.

 

She looked at the food in her hands. “I always made him shepherd’s pie when we were here at the same time. I don’t suppose you would want it?” She looked at him hopefully. “I made several.”

 

“That sounds fine.” 

 

She handed him the dish, forcing him to open the door wider.

 

“You’re not the one in the army, are you?”

 

“I was.” John felt himself slip into a military stance.

 

“He used to talk about how he had family fighting abroad.” She smiled at him.

 

John was suddenly aware that she was flirting him. He cleared his throat prepared to tell her he was flattered but nothing was going to happen when a crash sounded from his bedroom.

 

Sherlock called out from across the cabin. “John!!”

 

Janine attempted to see around him into the house. “What was that?”

 

“That would be my boyfriend.” John was a terrible liar, but this was not technically a lie, so he hoped he pulled it off.

 

Janine looked at him, and then smiled. “Did I interrupt something?”

 

John blushed. “No, I mean…. hmmmm.” He looked at her without knowing what to say.

 

She chuckled and her smile widened. “I think I’ll take off. You should go make sure he’s ok.”

 

John nodded dumbly.

 

She stepped off the porch and waved over her shoulder. “If you need anything, my phone number should be on a note in his junk drawer.”

 

John waved back at her.

 

“Oh, and be careful of forest gods.” 

 

“What?” John called after her, immediately concerned.

 

“You know, the forest gods.” She held her hands over her head and mimed antlers. “The great stag and his wife, the willow tree. It’s a local legend.”

 

Before John could ask her anything else, she got in her car. John decided he could easily look up the information if it was as well known as she implied. He shut the door and put the pie in the fridge. Now, to sort out Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh might did i just write something other then pure smut? is that a plot peaking out? and was that new characters? thats a lot for one chapter. wow


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after a long hiatus i finally have a new chapter!!! i'm happy this fix is getting read and hope everyone will continue to do so. after so much porn we are getting to the plot. there is a mini fix at the very end about a side character. i hope you all enjoy.

John opened his bedroom door and found Sherlock under a pile of clothing from his wardrobe. He was laying as still as possible, as if trying to hide.

 

John crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the mess. “Did you knock everything over trying to climb inside?” 

 

Sherlock’s head popped up among the clothing. He nodded, looking embarrassed.

 

“It’s ok to come out, they’re gone.”

 

“Who?”

 

“A neighbor.”

 

Sherlock got to his feet and looked around him.

 

“You’ll need to move so I can pick those up.” John knelt down so he could gather his clothing.

 

“Later.” Sherlock’s fingers swept through John’s hair.

 

John knew what he wanted, but he was not in the mood anymore. “Not now, I have things to do.”

 

“John?”

 

He looked up and saw concern clouding Sherlock’s usually upbeat expression. “Later.” He smiled, trying to show Sherlock that everything was all right, even if it was not.

 

Sherlock nodded and left the room.

 

John cleaned up the mess and found his laptop under the bed. Janine had made it sound like the legend was common knowledge. If it was, then there should be information about it online. He searched for a while and found mostly conspiracy sites. A few hinted at an old story about a willow tree who took a stag as its husband. Others said they were siblings. There was one site that was dedicated to finding the living willow tree. There were supposed sightings starting forty years ago. From what he could tell, the legend had gotten big a decade prior when someone had come back from a hunting trip ranting about a stag walking upright on two legs talking to a tree. For a while, people had thought he was just crazy, but then others started claiming they had seen the stag as well.

 

Night had fallen by the time John came out of his bedroom. He was more confused than when he had started his search. Sherlock was on the sofa with one of his medical books. He looked up at John as he came near and smiled. John sat on the coffee table and looked at him.

 

“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to give me an honest answer.”

 

He watched as Sherlock sat up, his face alert, as if sensing danger.

 

“You call me your mate, am I the only one you call that?”

 

Sherlock cocked his head to one side.

 

“Is there someone else you have sex with? A woman?”

 

Sherlock shook his head. “Only you.”

 

“What about the willow tree?” John searched Sherlock’s face for any clue.

 

Sherlock pulled back. “Why are you asking about her?”

 

So she was real. “I need to know.” John took a deep breath. “Is she your wife? Your mate?”

 

“No.” Sherlock looked at John like he was an idiot.

 

“Please don’t lie to me!” John’s voice rose.

 

Sherlock’s ears pulled back and his expression closed off. “Idiot!” He yelled before leaping over the coffee table and out the back door.

 

John did not have the energy to follow him.

 

\-----

 

John lay on the sofa waiting for Sherlock to come back. He was sorry he had started the fight. He knew it was out of jealousy. The idea that there was someone who Sherlock cared for when he wouldn’t talk about his feelings with him was bothersome. He realized his feelings for Sherlock went deeper than he had first thought. Eventually, he fell into a restless sleep.

 

He could not have been asleep long when he heard someone moving around in the room with him. From his position on the couch, there was nothing with which he could defend himself. He took a slow, deep breath to calm himself. The he opened his eyes and looked around the room. Standing by his fireplace was a shadow. He reached for the lamp by his head and turned on the light. The shadow shifted and John was paralyzed with fear. He had to be dreaming. The creature in front of him looked like it came out of a fantasy novel. The closest thing he could compare it to was one of Tolkien’s Entwives, except that it was only slightly taller than the average woman.

 

The creature smiled down at him. It was a tree, but also a woman. She hovered over John, her arms were like branches and her hair was made of leaves draping down around her head. It was hard to tell if she was made of wood, or if her skin was so wrinkled, it only appeared to be. She glided towards him and he saw that it was the former. She looked to be around seventy years old, with a pleasant face and soft features. 

 

“Hello John Watson.”

 

John stared, unable to speak.

 

“My name is Elizabeth Hudson, Miss. Hudson to most. Sherlock has told me a lot about you.”

 

John opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

 

“He tells me you have been asking questions about me.” Her smile widened. “I wanted to assure you that my feelings for the young man are maternal in nature. I have looked over him since he first came to this forest. I think he sees me as a mother. The stories about us are just that, stories.”

 

“You can’t be real.” John finally mumbled.

 

“You can believe a stag that can talk but not a tree?” She chuckled. “I suppose I don’t look very real, but I can promise you that I am. Has Sherlock told you anything about us?”

 

John shook his head.

 

“I suppose by now you’ve realized the forest is enchanted. It contains a magic that effects those who reside within it. Sherlock and I were once human, but exposure to the forest has changed us. When Sherlock first came here, he was a normal little boy. People around him called him a freak. He wished that he really were, so that he could blame that for the cruelty of others. The forest answered his wish and transformed him into what he is now.”

 

“He’s actually a human?”

 

“Yes. The forest feeds off desires. I suppose that’s what drew you here like everyone else.” She gave him a mischievous smile. “Be careful what you wish for here. It might just come true.” She turned her back on him and started to withdraw from the room.

 

“Wait.” John reached out to her, shocked he had said anything.

 

She turned back to look at him, her expression curious.

 

“If he’s human, then where is his family?”

 

“They keep a house on the border of the forest. They no longer come here. He doesn’t like to see them. The house is kept open for him if he needs it. They send him supplies and twice a year his brother comes to check on things.”

 

“Is that where he goes, when he’s not here?”

 

She nodded, shaking several leaves from her head.

 

“Can you tell me how to get there?”

 

“He won’t want you there.”

 

John sighed.

 

“It’s not about you. I think he likes you thinking he’s not human. It makes it easier for him to not say how he feels.”

 

John nodded.

 

“He’ll come back. He will have sensed that I’m near and will want to know what I’ve done.” She turned back for the door and John didn’t stop her.

 

\-----

 

Two days passed with no sign of Sherlock. John was giving up hope. The way Miss. Hudson had said it, he had expected Sherlock that night. He had closed the door to the back yard in defeat and was turning to go to bed when he heard something on the porch. He turned just as Sherlock was slinking in. He looked at John with a worried expression and John melted.

 

“John-”

 

John shook his head. “Don’t say anything.” He stepped forward and placed his hand on Sherlock’s cheek. “Just take me to bed.”

 

Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him and pulled John against him.

 

John smiled. He didn’t need answers or for Sherlock to say he cared about him. He loved him and that made him happy. That was all that mattered.

 

\-----------

Miss. Hudson was once a human just like you or I. But a very long time ago she saw something in the woods near her house that changed her forever. Even as she grew older and tales of magic and fairies faded from her friends minds she knew they were more then fantasy. That faith bled first into her skin, then her heart and finally her very soul. When she was twenty she had a choice, to leave the realm of fairy stories behind or become part of one.

 

Tell me, what would you have picked?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be warned this this a sad chapter and deals with a miscarriage. there is a little smut but a lot of the chapter deals with the stress of an unexpected pregnancy.

The present

John had been alone for three days after Sherlock had proclaimed him pregnant and run from the cabin. Unwilling to believe it, he had gone into town and gotten himself a pregnancy test. All right, he had bought ten and all of them had been positive. The pain in his abdomen had grown until he could hardly get up from his bed. He needed help, but refused to call Harry. That would involve explaining what had happened, and he had no idea where to even start. What he needed was for Sherlock to come back.

 

He was dozing when the bedroom door opened. The sound of footsteps sneaking across his room alerted him that he was not alone and in no shape to defend himself. A hand settled on his hip and shook him softly.

 

“John?”

 

He sighed with relief and opened his eyes. Sherlock was leaning over him, holding a mug in one hand.

 

“You came back.” When he spoke, his voice sounded wrecked, he grimaced at the sound.

 

Sherlock held the mug up. “Tea.” He reached out and tried to lift John’s head.

 

“I’m not thirsty.”

 

“It’s medicinal. It’s for the pain.”

 

John accepted the mug when it was pressed to his lips. It tasted foul, like dirt mixed with something sour.

 

When the mug was empty, Sherlock lowered his head back to his pillow and sat down next to him.

 

“You went away.” John mumbled.

 

Sherlock nodded. “But now I’m back and I’ll take care of you.” He placed a hand on John’s shoulder and smiled. “Rest, feel better soon.”

 

John smiled and let himself fall back asleep.

 

\-----

 

John spent most of the next month in bed drinking Sherlock’s foul tea. It did help with the pain, but it did nothing to settle the uneasy feeling growing inside him. He was pregnant, something that should be impossible. He remembered Miss Hudson’s words about how the forest fed off desire and wondered if his pregnancy was somehow a reaction to that, but whose desire had it been? His or Sherlock’s?

 

With his pain fading, John was able to move around better. He was not showing yet, so going into town was still possible. Sherlock hated when he left, fidgeting with John’s clothing and even trying to block the door. He understood why John had to go, but hated to have him out of his sight. Sherlock, unlike John, had taken to the pregnancy easily. He was more affectionate and caring. He spent almost all his time in John’s cabin asking if he needed anything or cuddling against him. John was enjoying the attention, but he was also worried that Sherlock loved the child more than him. Had he been a means to an end?

 

\-----

 

John was in bed taking an afternoon nap when he felt something cold press to his neck and shivered. A hand settled on his hip and squeezed gently and he sighed. Sherlock must have crawled into bed with him. He felt Sherlock’s body press into his back and his hand skirt under his shirt to press softly into his abdomen. Sherlock pressed his nose against John’s neck and inhaled.

 

“You smell like me, like us.”

 

“Do I?” He had not noticed a change in his scent, but then, Sherlock’s sense of smell was a lot more powerful than his.

 

Sherlock’s nose skimmed along his neck. “You smell like a mixture of us.” His hand pressed into John’s flat abdomen as if he was trying to feel the baby.

 

Sherlock moved closer and John felt the undeniable bulge of his cock pressed against his arse. They had not had sex since he had found out about the pregnancy and he missed it. 

 

“You can, you know.”

 

Sherlock murmured a questioning hum against his skin.

 

“You can fuck me.” John waited, hoping he would not be rejected.

 

Sherlock pressed his cock harder against his arse.

 

“Yes?”

 

John nodded.

 

Sherlock helped him out of his pants while John got the lube from his nightstand. He handed it to Sherlock. With quick efficient fingers, Sherlock opened him one finger at a time. John enjoyed the slow burn and the warmth pooling in his gut. When the tip of Sherlock’s cock nudged against his opening, he sighed and pushed back.

 

Sherlock slowly pushed inside him, a hand on John’s hip the whole time. When he was fully seated, he stilled, only nudging against John softly. When he finally began to thrust, it was soft and slow. Sherlock rocked against John tenderly as if he was made of glass. The slow burn was a wonderful tease to John. His body opened more and more to Sherlock.

 

Sherlock’s lips pressed against John’s neck, followed by a press of teeth. He covered any skin he could get to in love bites, and then pushed in harder. John moaned and reached down for his cock. He pulled himself off, cumming quickly. Sherlock continued to rock into him until John thought he would go mad. Then he felt Sherlock shiver and felt his cum fill him.

 

“Good mate.” Sherlock whispered, nuzzling into John’s shoulder. “Pretty mate.”

 

John chuckled.

 

\-----

 

As John began to show, he started noticing other changes. First, his sense of smell increased. He had initially thought it a normal part of the pregnancy, but when he started being able to tell people apart by their smell, he knew something was up. Then his leg hair had started to feel softer, more like fur. While showering one morning, he looked down at his legs and noticed that his skin was turning a soft, sandy-brown in splotches. The design (if he could call it that) looked eerily similar to the pattern of coloring on Sherlock.

 

Fear gripped John. He dressed quickly and headed for the backyard. He walked to the edge of the woods and yelled.

 

“Miss Hudson!!!” He called again, to no avail. He waited for twenty minutes, calling out occasionally, but nothing happened. Finally, he turned back for the cabin.

 

“Yes, my dear?”

 

John turned and saw the older woman standing at the edge of the tree line. He sighed and smiled at her. She smiled back.

 

“I believe you know about my situation?”

 

She nodded her great head, a few leaves falling from it. “Sherlock has told me of the pregnancy.”

 

He looked to the ground to gather his words. “My body wasn’t made for it.” He looked at her, letting all his fear show in his face. “Lately, I’ve noticed changes in my body. I’m wondering if the forest is changing me into a creature of magic to protect the pregnancy?”

 

She looked thoughtful and then sighed. “I have feared this. You would be correct. The forest created this life and now it is ensuring its survival.”

 

“How did it even happen? I don’t want kids, never have.”

 

She looked at him sadly. “This is a product of Sherlock’s magic. Despite what he says, he has always wanted to be normal. In his mind, a normal life includes a spouse and a child. In an attempt to create that life, he has unconsciously made you pregnant. I doubt he is aware he did it. He would give credit to the forest.” Her face brightened and she gave him a small smile. “The fact that it has happened means he loves you very much and wants to spend his life with you.”

 

John nodded and put his hand to his slightly swollen abdomen. It was nice to know Sherlock loved him, he just wished he had shown it another way. He suddenly felt woozy and there was a burst of pain under his fingers. He clenched his teeth and tried to take a deep breath.

 

“I need to lay down.”

 

Miss Hudson nodded. “Be careful, my dear.”

 

John headed back to the house to lie down on the couch. His whole body hurt. He was coming to realize this pregnancy was going to kill him. Try as the forest might, it could not change him quickly enough.

 

\-----

 

John spent the next month in bed. Everything hurt and with everyday his body changed a little more. Sherlock noticed the change. At first, he was curious, and then John saw fear. Sherlock tried to hide it, but John could tell he was afraid of what the magic was doing. He hardly left John’s side. Spending most of his time curled around John’s body as if to protect him.

 

John was woken one night by a stab of pain between his legs. He felt as if the skin there was being ripped open. He turned on the bedside light and threw the sheets off. There was blood, lots of blood.

 

John screamed, “Sherlock,” over and over until the bedroom door flew open revealing a panting Sherlock. John looked up at him, motioning to the blood.

 

Sherlock came forward and made him lay back. He removed John’s pants carefully, separating his legs. John heard a gasp.

 

“What?” John asked. 

 

“I need help.” Sherlock leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “I need to go get help. I’ll be back.”

 

“Don’t.” John grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders and held him to him. “Don’t leave me!”

 

Sherlock pulled himself out of his grasp. “I have to get help.” Then he was running out the door.

 

John lay still and tried to concentrate on his breathing. Every few minutes he felt another stab of pain, each worse than the last; he was dying; he knew he was.

 

After what seemed like forever, Sherlock rushed back through the door followed closely by Miss Hudson. Sherlock climbed onto the bed next to John, sitting with his knees pressed into John’s side. He took John’s hand in his and looked at Miss Hudson.

 

Miss Hudson gave John a small smile before looking down. John was in too much pain to be embarrassed. She, like Sherlock, separated his legs. Then she placed her hand on his abdomen and closed her eyes. 

 

Another wave of pain came over John, causing his whole body to convulse.

 

Miss Hudson opened her eyes and looked at John, bringing her face close to his.

 

“John, you need to go to the hospital.” She whispered. The baby is dead.”

 

John heard Sherlock give a low, painful cry next to him.

 

She looked up at Sherlock with a pitying look then back at John. “Your body is trying to expel the dead tissue and it can’t. It’s killing you. Is there anyone who can help you?”

 

John thought of Janine’s phone number sitting in a drawer in the kitchen. She was the only neighbor he knew. They had only talked a few times, once on his doorstep and then twice in town when they had both been shopping. He told Sherlock where to find the number and his phone. Sherlock did as he was told, though he looked like he did not want to.

 

John called Janine and, after stating that it was an emergency, convinced her to come get him. Sherlock helped him into a clean pair of pants and his jeans before carrying him to the kitchen. Putting John in a chair, he kneeled in front of him and placed his head in John’s lap.

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

 

“Not your fault.” John said in a strained voice. He put a hand on the back of Sherlock’s head and petted his hair.

 

“I’m not a good mate. I can’t even take you-“

 

He was cut off by John whispering, “hush. This is not your fault, love.” 

 

Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes full of tears that seemed unable to fall. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when he heard a car outside. He looked to the door then back at John.

 

“Help me stand.” John whimpered.

 

Sherlock helped him up and walked him to the door. John could hear Janine rushing over the gravel drive. Sherlock pressed his lips to John’s cheek and held him up until John opened the door. As the door opened, Sherlock slipped behind it and John slipped into Janine’s arms.

 

“Christ, John, you’re bleeding.”

 

John looked down and saw his jeans were soaked with blood.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Let’s just get you to the hospital.”

 

The drive to A&E was quiet. The only sound was John’s labored breathing and an occasional cry of pain. Once they got there, Janine ran in and got a nurse to help bring John in. He was taken straight to a room. Over the next hour, several doctors saw him and discovered that the impossible was happening inside his body. They rushed him to surgery and, afterwards, he had a crowd of doctors standing around him, looking amazed. 

 

Harry arrived and scared them all away. John felt an affection for her that he had thought he would never feel again. She smelled heavily of alcohol and all she did was talk about her divorce with Clara, but it was nice. She did not ask questions and she kept the doctors away. 

 

When John was fit to go home, she drove him back to the cabin. She stopped outside and looked at him for a long, hard moment.

 

“I won’t ask what happened, or why all those doctors were acting crazy.” She paused and studied him. “All I want to know is if you’re all right.”

 

John nodded. “I’m fine.”

 

“Promise?”

 

John smiled. “Yes.”

 

He got out and went in alone. He heard her drive away and sighed. As he stepped farther into the cabin, he looked around for any signs of life. He had been afraid to find it empty, Sherlock gone for good. John looked in the living room and found it vacant, then kitchen and bathroom as well. His last hope was his bedroom. He opened the door softly and looked in. Lying on his side of the bed was Sherlock, clutching one of his jumpers. Sherlock looked up at the noise.

 

“It’s gone?”

 

John nodded.

 

“You’re alright?’

 

John smiled softly. “Yes.” 

 

Sherlock didn’t move. He looked wrecked. John took off his coat and left it on the floor. He got on the bed and curled up behind Sherlock, spooning him.

 

“Everything’s going to be ok.”

 

He felt Sherlock quiver, but heard no tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if this chapter made people sad. this was always coming and was my plan from the start. the end will be happy so hold on!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the final chapter!! i got a little sentimental and sappy but i wanted them to have a happy ending! thanks for reading.

As John got better Sherlock seemed to get worse. He had realized it had been his magic that had caused the pregnancy and blamed himself for all the pain John had gone though. With gentle prodding from Miss. Hudson and himself John was able to get Sherlock to smile again. He bought him sweets from town and spent hours laying in bed with him. As Sherlock’s mood improved, John started to notice other changes. The first thing he noticed was that Sherlock’s nose was no longer cold all the time. Then the soft fur that covered his skin started to shed. Sherlock started to feel cold and had to wear John’s clothing. John asked Miss. Hudson if she knew what was happening and she just smiled sadly.

 

“The magic is leaving him. He’s rejecting it.”

 

“What will that mean for him?” John asked. His heart beat faster and he glanced over his shoulder at his closed bedroom door where Sherlock was sleeping.

 

“He will be as he was. Human.”

 

“It’s for the best.”

 

John turned and watched as Sherlock slunk out of the bedroom. He was dressed in pajamas that John had bought him. In one hand he held one of his antlers.

 

“Sherlock!” John crossed to him and put his hand around the one holding the antler. His other hand reached up and felt the place it had fallen from. “Are you alright?”

 

Sherlock gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine John.” His eyes drifted down till he was looking at the floor. “I think we both know you will be much safer if my magic is gone.”

 

“I don’t-“ John stared but Sherlock lifted his eyes and gave him a hard look, stopping him.

 

“My magic almost killed you.”

 

John’s hand dropped to Sherlock’s face, cupping his cheek. “I don’t blame you.”

 

“I do.”

 

John didn’t know what to say to that so he just took Sherlock into his arms. 

 

“I’m fine John.”

 

John sighed and pulled back. “I love you.”

 

A look of shock flickered across Sherlock’s face and then he smiled. John had been afraid he would pull away. He always seemed to find somewhere else to be when the topic of emotions came into play. This time he leaned down, dropping his forehead till it pressed against John’s.

 

“I suppose if I love anything in this world, it’s you.”

 

John smiled. It wasn’t a definite yes but it was enough. He turned back to Miss. Hudson, his arm around Sherlock’s waist. She was smiling at them, tears brimming in her eyes.

 

“I’m going to miss you two.”

 

“We aren’t going anywhere.” John smiled at her.

 

She shook her head. “If Sherlock truly wants to be free of his magic he will have to leave.”

 

John’s felt Sherlock’s body tense. He thought back to when Miss. Hudson had told him how Sherlock had come to be a stag. Sherlock had been a child when he had disappeared into the woods.

 

“We don’t have to leave.” John said, his hand fisting in Sherlock’s pajamas.

 

“Yes we do.” Sherlock said softly.

 

John turned so he was facing him. “I don’t mind the magic. If we stay you might even be able to recapture it.”

 

“That’s why we have to leave. If we stay, I will change back and you will change with me.”

 

“I don’t-“ John began again.

 

“After you became pregnant you must have noticed how your body was changing. You were becoming like me.” 

 

“I wouldn’t have minded.” John gave him the warmest smile he could.

 

Sherlock smiled back at him, but it was tinged with sadness and didn’t meet his eyes. “I know.”

 

“If we don’t stay here, where will we go?” John asked the room.

 

“I have a sister in London. She has rooms to let. She wrote me a few days ago saying that the flat above hers was open. I could contact her and let her know I have people who are interested. She knows about the forest magic, it will be a good place to stay while Sherlock finishes changing.”

 

Sherlock nodded. “If the rooms are available we will take them.”

 

“I came here to get away from London.” John said softly.

 

“No.” Sherlock said in a comforting voice.

 

John’s looked at him.

 

“You came here to get away from yourself. You miss the noise, the chaos, that’s why you keep having nightmares. My presence was enough to distract you for the most part. In London we will find you an occupation that will provide you with danger and excitement. Perhaps we will work together.” He gave John his first true smile of the day. “I may just invent an occupation that will suit us.”

 

John laughed and pressed his face into Sherlock’s chest. “Okay,” he said, his face still hidden.

 

\-----

 

A week later the cabin was packed and John and Sherlock were headed to London. Mrs. Hudson had been happy to take them on when she discovered they were friends of her sisters. John had sat through a long phone conversation with her about her childhood memories of the woods. He had also promised to bring her a box of herbs from her sister, which, he had a feeling, she wasn’t taking for their healing properties.

 

As John put the last box in the car he turned to look at Sherlock, who stood by the cabin, looking up at it. He was dressed in an expensive suit bought with his family’s money. After years of denying their help he had realized that to survive in London he would need capital. He’d had a few awkward conversations with his brother over the phone and had promised to see his parents over the holidays. His brother had in turn sent them a credit card and a new wardrobe for Sherlock. 

 

John looked at Sherlock in his nice clothing and he missed the fur and antlers (which were packed in the car). He missed how Sherlock skipped over words and fumbled with technology. The Sherlock walking towards him was confident, sexy, and part of the modern world. He feared once he got him to London, Sherlock would realize how much he has missed out and wander off, never to return. John loved the man with every fiber of his being and he wanted to selfishly keep him to himself. Since becoming acquainted with the Internet, Sherlock had talked like a modern man, often using words John’s hadn’t heard of.

 

“Ready?” Sherlock asked, winding his scarf around his neck.

 

John nodded. “Ready.”

 

\-----

 

They traveled in silence, John’s eyes staying on the road.

 

“I’m excited for the new flat.” Sherlock’s hand settled on John’s thigh and squeezed. “I’m going to fuck you on every surface.”

 

John laughed and felt a weight lift from his chest. His hand drops to Sherlock. “Is that right?” He watched Sherlock nod out of the corner of his eye.

 

“When I get bored of those surfaces, we’ll buy new furniture.”

 

John laughed again, imagining them in a shop buying furniture based off how they could have sex on it.

 

“And John-”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“I’m not going to leave you.”

 

The car screeched as his foot hits the break without warning. The driver behind him honked and swerved around them. Both of John’s hands grabbed the wheel. He cursed and took a deep breath. John kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, afraid of what he would see if he looked at the man next to him.

 

“John?” 

 

The hand on John’s leg had moved to his shoulder. Sherlock squeezed his arm, trying to get his attention.

 

John took his foot off the break and drove.

 

“John.” Sherlock said in a firm tone that reminds John of a parent.

 

John sighed and pulled over. He waited a moment then turned to look at Sherlock. 

 

“I’m not leaving you. I know you have been obsessing over the thought and I wanted you to know it won’t happen.”

 

“How do you know? You’re going to be in a new place, experiencing the world for the first time in years. How do you know you won’t find something better?”

 

Sherlock cupped John’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

 

John’s mouth opened to speak but Sherlock cut him off.

 

“I know I have avoided talking about my feelings. It makes me uncomfortable. But I never meant to make you feel like I don’t care for you. John, you aren’t a passing phase. I’m not going to get to London and leave you for someone else. I have never been very in tune with my emotions; they have always felt foreign to me. But I know I love you. You are the first person in my life I can truly say that about.”

 

John felt the tears on his face and blinked. Sherlock wiped them away with his finger and then leaned in and kissed him.

 

“I may not say it, but don’t ever doubt how I feel about you.” Sherlock whispered against John’s lips.

 

John nodded, at a loss for words. They parted and he turned back to the road. Perhaps he didn’t need to fear his new life in London after all.

 

The rest of the trip went by easily. They arrived at their new flat around teatime and were pleased to find Mrs. Hudson had prepared refreshments for them.

 

“Don’t get used this. I’m your landlady, not your housekeeper.” She smiled at them though and winked.

 

After the three of them had had tea in Mrs. Hudson’s flat she took them up to theirs. She was very cavalier about the fact that they would only need the one bedroom, saying they weren’t the only ones in the neighborhood. 

 

When they were finally alone John put Sherlock’s old antlers on the mantel and smiled at them. He felt arms wrap around his middle and then Sherlock’s breath on his neck.

 

“I think we’ll start in the bedroom.”

 

John chuckled and let Sherlock lead him, as he always did, into another adventure.


End file.
